Woolgatherings

18

Sanctuary Man

There was anger in his walk Certain danger in his eyes A purpose to his speaking And not a wasted word. More than ever wanting Wanting more than this Unholy callous master Unable to resist. - Perchance On starless evenings Alone in chapel groves Obsessively possessed Elijah comes then goes. Pollyannaish prideful monster Bastard’s beatings bore once more Impassioned drummer pounding Stealing tears from basement drawers. Festering malicious In and out of mind Symbiotic wailing Exquisitely unkind. Triple candles waxing slowly Burning sundries, sipping down And all the while worshipping at His Highness’ tarnished crown. Bastard beggar picking proudly Over bones from scraps, then dregs Instantly I wander ‘Neath the weight above my head.

No harm is done my savior Raw steak on eye will do Got beads and icons with me And my faith to see me through. Shudder - mumbles nonexistence My arrogance remembers shame I have no more to give you But for sadness, sorrow, pain. And walking tall and striding I bloom friendly and pray reprieve Lacerations all but blinding Drying tears upon my sleeve. Alone in chapel gardens Underneath gray skies alone Archangels scream in silence Their hearts, like mine Are made of stone.

R. Milan Gura

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